


god knows

by jehoney



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fantasizing, Feminization, Friends With Benefits, M/M, PWP, Riding, Rogerina - Freeform, Spanking, Utter Filth, schoolgirl smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 21:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18302063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehoney/pseuds/jehoney
Summary: unoriginal title, unoriginal content. rogerina gets railed.





	god knows

**Author's Note:**

> im posting from mobile so a certain horny someone can read this, so it won't let me add tags - feminization, rog getting railed in a schoolgirl costume and all that jazz. 
> 
> if you like then come follow me on tumblr https://meddowes.tumblr.com/

Roger Taylor is the devil incarnate in a schoolgirl uniform.  
  
He knows what he's doing. He walks with an accentuated swish of his hips making that little flippy pleated skirt bounce with ever step. He's darting a tongue out over the stickiness of the lipgloss, and twirling stands of the blonde wig between his fingers like some kind of infuriating coquette, and if Brian didn't have any shred of dignity, he'd bend him over the table and fuck him right here.  
  
He's listening to their director now, pretty eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration and foot tapping agaist the leg of the table he's sat at, leaning his elbows on the wood. From where Brian's leaning against the wall, he can see the way the miniskirt rides up over his crossed legs, the mouth-watering flash of thigh, and he wonders what he'd have to do to be under that table and that skirt. Knowing Roger, very little, probably.  
  
An agreement is made about something, and Roger pulls the end of the pen he's been chewing out of his mouth as he nods, blonde pigtails bouncing. Brian follows the shiny chewed tip of the pen as Roger spins it with practised deftness, like the drumstick trick that makes Brian weak. God, he's got nice fingers. He reaches up a hand to tug at his own hair for some kind of relief, before being reminded of the curlers, and huffing out a frustrated breath.  
  
"Distressing you, am I, darling?"  
  
It's Freddie, rubber miniskirt, moustache and all, running his feather duster up Brian's arm with a devious smile. The most Brian can manage in return is a wan smile that he can pass off as exhaustion, but Freddie's not fooled. He follows Brian's gaze to where Roger's doodling absently on the edge of a page, waiting for the cameras to reset, and runs the duster over a part of his anatomy he wished didn't feel so exposed in this fucking nightie.  
  
"She's a minx, isn't she?"  
  
Brian could kill him. He swats the hand away.  
  
"Shut up, Fred."  
  
But he can't deny Freddie's right. Even now, the way Roger looks down at the page, heavy eyelids made heavier with eyeshadow and lashes thick and dark makes him wonder if they'd look the same looking down at him with Roger straddling his hips. His mouth goes dry at the thought.  
  
He's staring, he knows that much, and Roger seems to notice too, lifting his head and shooting Brian a look. It's utterly unreadable, just those ridiculous blue eyes meeting his with an unabashed confidence. Brian does his best to hold it, even manages to raise an eyebrow in a silent, unknowable question. The corner of Roger's lip quirks up. Brian's stomach does a somersault.  
  
That half smile stays in his mind for the next three hours, flashing up whenever he closes his eyes, and every time becoming more teasing. He doesn't know if that's why he's imagining Roger's stolen glances at him, or his bending over at every opportunity, skirt riding so dangerously high that Brian isn't sure he's even wearing underwear underneath it. All he does know is that he's grateful for the amount of time he and John get to spend sitting down so he has at least some chance of hiding his persistent semi. The mental cold showers he keeps trying to douse himself in are less than successful, though, mainly because what he knew turned him on and off yesterday have all been fucked around by sexy schoolgirl Roger Taylor, and now he feels like a horny teenage boy whose libido is running away with him.  
  
Fuck.  
  
"You'll be pleased to know thats a wrap on the drag shots, boys!"  
  
The call fills Brian with simultaneous relief and utter dread. The end of the shoot means the end of his torment, but from the looks being shot his way the day is not finished just yet.  
  
He pushes himself out of his chair, and tries not to visibly blush as Roger approaches, pigtails bouncing and bra strap visible through his shirt. He thrusts a takeaway cup of tea to his chest, and flounces away.  
  
"But I didnt ask..." Brian begins, before he sees the message scrawled on the cardboard.  
  
'Dressing Room 3. Get changed. Bring lube.'  
  
Fuck.

* * *

  
He lingers in the dressing room for as long as he can without arousing suspicion, but it's bordering on ridiculous by the time Roger makes it through the door. His dick had almost lost interest but seeing Roger now, turning the lock in his sinful get up makes it spring to attention in record speed.  
  
He comes up from behind, and Roger lets out a soft little laugh as he lets himself be pinned to the dressing room door and kissed deeply.  
  
"Fuck, I want you." Brian murmurs, when they pull apart.  
  
"How?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"How do you want me?" Roger demands, "Tell me, Bri."  
  
But Brian's brain is too muddled and full of heat and kisses to formulate any kind of plan so he just shakes his head and looks down at him with lust-blown eyes.  
  
"I don't care."  
  
Roger goes to unbutton his blouse with fumbling fingers but Brian stops him. He's surprised at his own insistence.  
  
"Leave it on."  
  
"So you do care?" Roger cocks an eyebrow.  
  
"What?"  
  
"How you want me. Shirt: on. Skirt?"  
  
It takes a moment for him to realise what he's doing.  
  
"On." he says decidedly.  
  
"Tie?"  
  
"On."  
  
He thinks about the alternative, of tying Roger's wrists behind his back with it and fucking his face--  
  
"Tights?"  
  
He hasn't got time for this.  
  
"Fuck it."  
  
He reaches behind, underneath the skirt to palm roughly at the meat of Roger's arse and tear a hole in the nylon, earning a gasp. Just as he suspected, Roger is decidedly indecent underneath his tights.  
  
"Where are we gonna do this?" comes the question, low with arousal, and a little bit of the real world creeps in as they assess the practicality of shagging in a dressing room. There's a sofa, which looks most comfortable, a chair which looks ridiculous, and counter that he could bend Roger over if Brian didn't want so badly to be able to see his face whilst fucking him.  
  
Brian thinks if Roger actually were a girl, logistically it would be so much less work to pin him up against the wall and fuck him stupid whilst facing him, and the thought of Roger tight and dripping down there makes him nearly faint, but as it goes he wants something slightly less strenuous, and also wants to make Roger do some of the work as payback for his teasing.  
  
He pulls back and presses their foreheads together, grip on Roger's hips tightening to bruising.  
  
"Stop asking so many questions." he hisses, and Roger answers with a sharp tug on his hair and a quick retort:  
  
"Take some fucking control then."  
  
Brian does not take lightly to having his hair pulled. With a newfound dominance, he grinds up against Roger, hard, and feels him catch his breath before he realises exactly what he's wanted ever since he first saw the sway of those hips in that skirt.  
  
"On the sofa. Ride me."  
  
"Yes, sir." comes the reply, and Brian isn't sure if the breathiness is feigned but it sends a flare of heat straight to his cock.  
  
"Stop it."  
  
"Make me."  
  
He's got a hunger behind the cheeky glint in his eyes that lets Brian know he's only half joking, and as they stumble over to the sofa he strains up to kiss Brian, who keeps himself just out of reach.  
  
"Ah ah ah ah," he admonishes; he's going to make Roger earn his kisses. If he wants to play silly games of calling him 'sir' and pulling at his hair, he's got what's coming to him.  
  
Brian backs up until he feels the sofa against his calves and falls back into it, taking a moment to just stare at the slightly dazed state Roger's in. His cheeks are impossibly flushed, tie askew and pupils big and dark, trained unashamedly on the large bulge of Brian's crotch. Brian palms himself, indulgently, testing to see what will make Roger break and come to him - he peels off his jeans, even, but all Roger does is stand there, one hand inside his shirt playing with his nipple, the other rubbing himself through the skirt fabric.  
  
"Come here." he says, softly, more encouragement than command, and Roger's eyes refocus and he's back in the room. He blinks a few times, lashes ridiculous and wets his lips with his tongue, stepping into the V of Brian's splayed legs.  
  
"Want me to blow you?" he asks.

  
"Nope." Brian shakes his head, and grabs the end of the tie to pull him even closer. Taking the hint, he clambers on top and straddles him, looking down with eyebrows drawn in confusion and fuck, Brian wants to marry him just to see him make that face whenever he likes. He brings his face down by the hand on the back of his neck, and can feel the warm trail of Roger's open mouth down to settle in the juncture of his shoulder. Their bodies are pressed together now, chest to chest, Roger's thighs straddling his own, and he runs his hands up them to settle on his arse, reaching underneath the skirt he's still wearing and shifting Roger even closer to him, and all he can do as he reaches for the lube is feel the way Roger's grinding against him, small but noticeable, breath hitching as he moves in his lap.  
  
"Just behave yourself."  
He says, and reaches back with slicked fingers to press at Roger's hole, who lets out a little surprised moan at the realisation of what he's doing.  
  
"You're very impatient." he hums, face pressed into Brian's neck, and Brian scoffs.  
  
"I've been waiting all day."  
  
He presses in to the knuckle and fuck, Roger is tight but he can't wait much longer before he bursts, so he's rushing.  
  
"No foreplay? That's no way to treat a lady." Roger's voice is stilted and breathy close to his ear and huffed into his neck and he wants to hear it forever, even if it's forever of him complaining or mouthing off. He adds a second finger, hearing the responding hiss of pain and kissing it out of Roger's mouth until he's good to carry on.  
  
"You're hardly a lady when you've basically been begging to ride me all afternoon." which is not untrue, if Brian's been reading his body language right, and Roger lets out a tiny laugh which Brian knows is him being caught red handed.  
  
"Have I, now?" he still asks, so fucking smug and prompting Brian to add a third finger and lower the tone of his speech significantly.  
  
"You're a bit of a slut, actually, I'd say."  
  
He's never spoken to Rog like this in the few times they've fooled around, but Roger's never looked like this either, so it's all new territory as far as Brian's concerned.  
  
"I'm-- ah -- I'm wounded." Roger gasps, but the way he fucks himself down on Brian's fingers at the name indicates otherwise so, emboldened, he carries on.  
  
"Gagging for it. Showing off in that skirt knowing that I'd be watching."  
  
"Well I might be gagging if you'd let me-- Ah!"  
  
He hears Roger momentarily lose the power of speech as his fingers find his prostate, and turns his head to growl in his ear:  
  
"Shut. Up."  
  
Roger, for once, does as he's told, and keeps his voice to high whines as Brian pulls out his fingers and lines his cock up against his entrance. Roger even keeps (relatively) quiet as he moves in, agonisingly slow and gradual, and Brian knows that Roger's too tight for it not to hurt just a little, but he also knows that if it gets too much Roger's certain to say. As it goes, he's got one hand clenched in Brian's curls and another braced against the side of his torso. As he sinks down he takes little panting breaths and is whimpering something and at some point he throws his head back and Brian can looks up, along the exposed line of his neck to see his face frozen in a beautiful 'O'. But it's only once he's seated fully on Brian's length, feeling it deep inside him, that he speaks again, a shaky and uncharacteristically small question:  
  
"Will you kiss me now?"  
  
He's looking down at Brian just like he fantasised about, through thick lashes and under heavy lids, blonde halo of hair around his head, tie askew, and he's utterly delectable. So Brian obliges.  
  
It's messy and needy and Roger's got pliant, gorgeous lips that let out little keens when Brian moves. He's afraid to thrust, Roger is tight as anything around him so all he does is rock against him ever so slightly, and lets Roger decide when he's ready.  
  
When it comes, Rog doesn't do half measures. He lifts himself completely off Brian's cock, hands gripping his shoulders tightly, and lowers down quickly, letting out a sound like all the air has been knocked out of him.  
  
"Fuck yourself on me, baby"

  
"Yessir."

  
There's no joke in it now, and Brian tugs on Roger's hair to reward him, earning a whine. He's fucking himself on Brian's lap, thighs tensed and pace increasing as he gets used to Brian's formidable size.

  
"You like that?

  
"Mmm."

  
He impales himself on the length and Brian can't get over how fucking pretty he looks, how he's flushed red down his chest, so he reaches a hand up under his blouse to twist his nipple hard.

  
"Yeah baby?"

  
He thinks about ripping open the shirt to suck at his chest, then thinks about how it's not their clothing and decides against it. Another time.

  
"Yes."

  
"Yes what?"

  
He teases, but Roger answers immediately and with urgent desperation.

  
"Sir, fuck yes sir, please fuck me, Bri, God you feel so good." he babbles, but his pace slows and he starts to rock again, not lifting off but grinding deeper onto Brian, which is all well and nice but Brian wants him to move, to feel the tightness up and down his shaft so he lifts Roger's arse up, pressing his fingers to the rim of muscle and brings him back down, trying to get him to move.

  
"Come on baby, ride me." he growls, frustrated he can't do more, but Roger just whines and drops his head onto Brian's shoulder.

  
"M'tired, Bri, my legs, I can't--" he rocks and grinds, desperately, and if he's honest Brian wants him to have aching thighs so he can see the way he winces when he walks tomorrow, but he wants to thrust in and out of him more. "Want you to fuck me properly." he nearly begs, and Brian brushes a thumb over his cheek.

  
"Properly?" he asks, and Roger rolls his eyes, wanton schoolgirl act momentarily abandoned.

  
"Lay me down and fucking pound me, Brian." he orders.

  
God, he's such a brat.

  
"Manners."

  
"Lay me down and fucking pound me, sir please sir."

  
"Good girl."

  
It's a joke when it comes out of his mouth, but Roger's mouth falls open in a little groan and he digs his nails into Brian's scalp, and he knows he's struck gold. Brian thrusts up into him again, leaning into his ear.  
"That turn you on, baby? Me telling you what a good girl you are?"

  
"Yeah."

  
It's barely audible, and Brian's not sure whether that's a good or bad thing, so he turns it up notch.

  
"How wet your pussy feels when I'm inside you?"

  
Roger tenses.

  
"God, fuck, Brian." he groans.

  
"Want me to stop?" Brian asks, because this is something way beyond what they've done before and definitely haven't discussed. But Roger shakes his head with eyes dark and protests in a rush.

  
"Fuck no, no God, unless you think it's weird."  
They've stopped moving, Roger sat on his cock in his lap looking into his eyes with such uncharacteristic self- consciousness and he honestly doesn't care what the fuck he wants to be called as long as Brian can stay in his tight fucking heat so he surges forward and kisses him hungry and hard.

  
"No way in hell." he says against his lips, and Roger lets out some kind of sound between relieved laugh and low moan.

  
"Good," he breathes, and grinds down in a way that makes Brian see stars, "Because I'm so fucking close."  
  
He shifts them sideways, laying Roger on his back, and this is very nice, Brian gazing down the length of his arched torso to his face.

  
"Gonna come all over yourself, baby?" he asks, and Roger answers with closed eyes.

  
"Unh, God..."

  
He always takes it as a good sign when Roger loses the ability to run his mouth, devolving into expletives and moans and Brian's name, and he picks up the pace, this position so much easier to fuck him deep and fast, his legs thrown over his shoulders and cock rock hard and weeping against the tights fabric, skirt flipped up and making Roger look fucking filthy, on display to anyone that would walk in.

  
"Been teasing me all day, haven't you, in that slutty skirt and see through blouse? Been showing off to everyone?  
  
Roger groans because he knows it's true, and Brian does as well. He can't resist being the centre of attention, driving people crazy, making them wish he really had a dripping cunt under that skirt that they could fuck if he just bent over and let them.  
  
"Be surprised if you didn't let anyone on set fuck you, you were so horny for it" Brian manages, between sharp grunts, and realises the thought that should fill him with white hot jealousy nearly makes him come right then. He imagines Roger, face pressed into the sofa, being pounded by Freddie, John, the camera operator, the sound man, cum running down his thighs from under the skirt, nipples red and bitten, arse loose, slutty, well fucked, and Brian being the one to make him cum, after a long line of guys, Brian feeling Roger spill over his hands and go boneless and underneath him in reality he must be hitting Roger's prostate because he's bucking and wailing under him so he pulls his arsecheeks wider and thrusts even harder.  
  
"Only want you, sir," Roger pants between moans, and Brian knows that's a lie because Roger loves to fuck and be fucked by whoever, wherever, whenever, and that's what's so hot, but it's what he knows Brian wants to hear so he buries himself to the hilt and kisses him.  
  
"What a good girl." he murmurs, pressing a palm to Roger's cock through the elastic and that's all it takes before he's coming, thighs tensing around Brian's waist, cum staining through the fabric, hips bucking and hole. tightening like a vice around every inch of Brian's cock, and it's the thoroughly debauched expression on his slack face that makes Brian explode, shooting his load deep inside him with a groan, pounding twice more and enjoying the desperate overstimulated whines and Roger's hands clawing at his shoulders.  
  
"Fuuuuck Bri I can't-- Can't take any more-- Please, fuck--" he moans, high and needy, so Brian pulls out of his gorgeously loose hole and slides his softening length up the cleft of his arse. If he catches the rim of his hole it's accidentally deliberate and makes Roger squeal, but mostly he loves the way he can spread his cum onto the tights that Rog is still wearing stretched over the flushed roundness of his arse.

He lifts one of Roger's ankles for better access, licks a broad stripe across his hole and then brings his hand down in a sharp smack on the flesh of his cheek, earning another high squeal. He knows Roger, and he knows he loves being played with post-orgasm, and after definitely the kinkiest sex they've ever had he's not going to let him get away without a spanking, especially whilst wearing that uniform, so he flips him over, pliant and boneless but still arching his dripping hole up to meet Brian's palm.  
  
"So. Fucking. Dirty."  
  
He punctuates every word with a slap that Roger takes with a whine, and when he's bent forward like this Brian can see his trapped cock begin to harden again. He's whining some words, Brian's name, "fuck" a lot and a few about being " so fucking filthy don't stop", so Brian doesn't, and it isn't until his hand is smarting that he stops and Roger hides his face in the cushions to let out a long groan.  
  
Brian's cock is making a valiant effort at being hard again, and the spanking has made Roger hot for it once more, so he loops an arm around his waist and pulls Roger so his chest is flush with his back. His thighs are wide and sticky with cooling cum.  
  
"Can you take a bit more?" he asks, and Roger bites his lip which means yes.  
  
"I'm so fucking fucked," is what he says, but when Brian presses his tip against his loose hole again his eyes roll backwards and he breathes, "Yes yes yes." so Brian presses in, keeping his arm holding them flush together as he fucks hard and fast, Roger shagged out of all retorts and instead just taking it, head falling back into Brian's shoulder and kissing him with slack swollen lips as they both come for the second time, just the right side of too much.  
  
They ride out the crest together, Brian careful to keep his grip and not let Roger fall until they're both boneless and he leans them against the back of the sofa. He tries to go as slowly and carefully as he can when he pulls out, but Roger still winces and tightens a hand on Brian's forearm, so he presses kisses to the back of his neck by way of an apology. For a good few minutes neither of them can do much other than lie there, until Brian rests his chin on Roger's shoulder.  
  
"You okay?" he whispers, and Rog nods, but Brian notices his legs are shaking slightly, "Rog?"  
  
"Yeah, just... Yeah." he manages, eventually. He lets Brian shift him so he's sat on the sofa normally, but as Brian shifts down his body to take off the ruined tights he pushes on one of his shoulders.  
  
"I really can't take any more, Bri."  
  
"I'm not trying to suck your dick, Rog. I'm going to get you changed." he clarifies, and Roger lets out a little surprised chuckle at the misunderstanding.  
  
"I was gonna say..." he mutters, lifting his hips as the tights and socks come off in one discarded heap and settling back into the cushions with half- closed eyes. Brian almost believes he's fallen asleep until he tugs on his sleeve lightly.

  
"Kiss, please." he says, almost inaudible, but Brian hears and that's all that matters. He leans up and wipes the smudged mascara gently with the pad of his thumb, before kissing him, as tenderly as humanly possible, pouring as much love into it as he can. Roger lets out a little satisfied hum when they break apart.  
  
"Stand up and we can get this skirt off, yeah?"

Brian tries to pull his hand away from Roger's face, but a grip on his wrist stops him. So he stays, because he knows Roger needs a few minutes to feel himself again after whatever game they've been playing. He shifts his hand up to the wig that has steadfastly survived a mammoth fucking, which seems permissable, and sets to pulling out the hundreds of pins, setting them aside and eventually the wig too. Roger lets out an audible sigh, and Brian runs his hands through the hair underneath, pressing forward for another soft kiss.  
  
"Better?"  
  
Roger leans into the touch like a cat.  
  
"Hm."  
  
"Can you stand up now?"  
  
Roger pulls a face that says it's doubtful, but manages, even if his legs are wobbly. He seems capable of undressing himself, now that he's returned somewhat to reality, so Brian lets him and sets to dampening some of the towels in the dressing room sink. When he turns back Roger's removed the shirt and tie, but even in just the skirt he still looks unreasonably good. Brian presses the damp towel into his hands and a kiss to his cheek, before turning to find his own clothes.  
  
It's always odd, the cleaning up, the redressing, not knowing how much of the shag is acceptable to talk about, if any, how much intimacy is allowed now that reality has dissolved whatever sex-crazed mist made everything acceptable all of five minutes ago. Brian doesn't know how long he's allowed to look at Roger's deliciously pink arse as he pulls on his boxers, or whether he can go up behind him and wrap his arms around his slim waist like he wants to to stop him from shivering. He's not good with undefined intimacy, not like Roger, who'll fuck with no questions asked, and go back to being just mates. Or whatever they are.  
  
But now that Roger's dressed and Brian's still shirtless after procrastinating by overthinking, he pads across the room on bare feet and winds his arms under Brian's, around his body, resting his chin on his shoulder and wrapping him in a tight, strong hug.  
  
"That was fucking good," he murmurs in Brian's ear, "Thank you."  
  
Brian's glad Roger's too close to see how far down his chest he blushes.  
  
"Thanks to you too," he replies, uselessly, and immediately wants to punch himself in the face. But Roger just laughs, quietly, and keeps his grip around him, and Brian turns to press a kiss into his hair.  
  
The schoolgirl costume lies in a crumpled heap. 


End file.
